Daddy issues, part 2

Shortly after I turned eighteen my father called me and said he wanted to meet for dinner. Silly me, I thought he was going to give me a birthday present for the first time in my life. What he actually wanted was to tell me he “no longer had the means to keep helping me”. That meant, of course, that he was about to cut me off from the minuscule allowance he had been so magnanimous to spare me since I was in high school. Hurtful in itself, I was well aware I was hearing this from a man who arrived in a brand new BMW driven by a chauffeur, and that’s what made it hurt ten times more.

I grew up with my basic needs covered. I didn’t starve, I never lacked a roof over my head, and I always went to school. Nothing really to moan about, right? I later found out that while I was attending a shitty school where not only did I not get an education but actually got bullied, his other, official children  (when I found out about their existence) went to an expensive school I always wanted to attend.

I guess what I’m trying to express here is that my father never gave me anything other than money, so I rationalized he just wasn’t good at expressing affection. However, he was astoundedly cheap and petty regarding me. I wasn’t good enough for a higher education, nor was I good enough to live in an appropriate home (’til I was 14 I lived with my mother in a one bedroom apartment. First we shared the room, when I grew up I was sent to sleep in the living room). So really, if he expressed his affection in $$$, truth is he didn’t love me quite very much, did he?

Anyhow, he decided I wasn’t getting another penny from him. I was still in high school, and mexican laws say that parents, regardless of their marital status, must provide for the child until s/he finishes studying, even if they go to college. Well well, it’s not like every law is followed in Mexico you may say, and you’d be right. But wait, did I mention the dude is a lawyer? Well he is, so I may be making a mistake here but he must have known what he was doing was plain wrong.

Oh but his balls didn’t end there. I think it was in yet another meeting,though it might’ve been the same, he actually got the nerve to explain he didn’t really want a kid with my mother in the first place. He went on and on about how she tricked him saying she was taking the pill when she wasn’t. What was I supposed to answer to that? Did he not suspect I had put two and two together by then? Maybe he did and that’s why he was justifying himself? I don’t know how on earth he ever thought that was a good idea, but what’s clear to me is that my feelings were not a factor in the equation.

I didn’t see him or talk to him in several years. Then one day he calls me on my cell to congratulate me for getting a diploma at my uni. I was so incredibly pissed I felt I was going to explode. How could he dare calling me? To congratulate me? Really? So now he cared? I’ve been a straight A’s student all my life, did it not occur to him that I might have needed his praise more when I was a kid?

He called a couple more times until I managed to say something remotely nice to him, and somehow he got me to agree to dinner. It’s been 2 years since that dinner, I’ve seen him four or five times since then. On the second time he actually cried. I felt like slapping him or throwing him my coffee, now I was supposed to comfort him? Make his guilt go away? His guilt is his problem.

Most times I think the relationship is too damaged to even attempt reconciliation, now and then I wonder what’ll happen if he dies before I forgive him, will I be the one crying for loosing my chance? That’s really the only reason why I’ve agreed to meet him, I don’t want to be the old lady crying, I don’t want to be him.

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